Event Horizon
by Faux Pax
Summary: A mysterious letter brings Emma and Neal to Stroybrook a decade early. Unfortunately for them they have something Regina wants and nothing gets in her way when she wants something. What they don't realize is that there were conciquences to the curse that neither Rumple nor Regina could have predicted and this is a fight the citizens of Storybrooke may not be able to win.
1. Welcome to Storybrooke

e·vent ho·ri·zon

_noun_ 1) a theoretical boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape; 2)a point of no return.

* * *

Chapter One: Welcome to Storybrooke

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Neal asked, stopping the car just short of the town line.

Emma looked more frightened then Neal had ever seen her, like a cornered rabbit just looking for a direction to bolt. The letter had been crunched in her hand the entire trip until it was so crumpled and well-read Neal was surprised it hadn't fallen apart.

They had a good life. After fencing the watches they had had more than enough money to get across the border and set themselves up in a nice little apartment. They had even had enough to buy a bit of real furniture – the new kind, not the stuff you could find thrown out on the corner. It wasn't much, but it was home, something neither of them had had in a very long time.

Neal got a decent job working construction and Emma started as a hostess at one of those super fancy restraints. And not even a month after they had settled in they got the news: Emma was pregnant. It was the third best moment of his life, after meeting Emma and the day Henry was born.

Emma had been so nervous about it all. What did she know about being a mom? And they were so young. Neal hadn't known what to say when he heard that, it wasn't like he could tell her that in the little village he had grown up in, an entire world and a few centuries away, most people were on their second or third child by their age. All he could say was that even if they didn't know how to be parents, they knew how not to be and that was a hell of a start.

And then the letter had come, hand written in a shiny silver gel pen. The writer, someone named Len, had claimed to be a college student doing some an assignment missing kids and had accidently come across a connection the police should have caught. Len had enclosed two newspaper clippings from eighteen years ago. One told of a little baby found abandoned in the woods, wrapped in an embroidered blanket, the other told of a young couple whose child had been taken from the nursery one chilly night. The only other thing missing had been a blanket with her name embroidered across the front: Emma.

"I'm afraid Neal," she whispered, reaching back to touch Henry's foot. "I had always thought they just left me but what if…"

She didn't have to finish because Neal knew what she was thinking. What if they were there and she could get what she never thought she could have? What if they weren't and Len was wrong?

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

Neal started the car and inched it forward slow enough that Emma could stop him if she really wanted to but she said nothing as they passed the wooden sign welcoming them to Storybrook.

* * *

Regina sat at the counter, eating her breakfast just as she had done every day for the past eighteen years. No one sat with her, the peasants were all too terrified to approach her unless it was absolutely necessary.

It gave her a measure of satisfaction – them finally giving her the respect she deserves and yet she would be lying if she didn't find the situation strangely boring. Things were perfect but nothing ever changed.

There was a commotion and Regina turned just in time to see a dark haired young man fall forward. He reached out his hand to steady himself, grabbing the nearest surface.

"Watch it!" she yelled, jerking her arm way.

He was a tall thing with sharp features and bright, hazel eyes. Regina had seen him around town on occasion but had no idea who he had been in their world. Not that it mattered now.

He smiled sheepishly, sitting down beside her. "Sorry."

Regina whipped at an oily sliver substance on the back of her hand. The old lady really needed to keep this place cleaner.

"Hey Len, what can I get you?" Granny said from behind the counter.

"Waffles please, and coffee, if you don't mind."

"Sure thing."

There was a full moment of almost normalcy before the second strange event of the day happened. The bell rang as a young couple entered, laughing. The girl was just barely a child – perhaps the same age she had been when she married the king –and the boy couldn't be too much older.

A sharp cry brought her attention down to the baby carriage in the man's hand. It was such an alien sound that many in the dinner stopped to look.

"Why don't you order and I'll take care of Henry?," he said to the girl before heading to a booth in the back where he started making absurd faces at the child and waving a stuffed elephant in the creatures face.

For the briefest instant the image of a young boy running from her flashed in her mind.

"Kind of makes you jealous doesn't it?" Len said taking a sip of his coffee, "I can't have any because of a medical condition but I always thought it would be nice to foster an older kid. You always want to adopt a baby – make it your own with no baggage to mess things up – but the older ones, well after a while she loses hope that anyone could care and no kid deserves that."

"Whatever made you believe I wanted to hear your drivel?" she snapped.

"I guess I tend to talk too much."

She got up from her stool and leaned in until she was almost nose to nose with him.

"Then I suggest you rectify that."

She didn't look back as she stalked out, all but pushing Gold out of the way as she went.

The peasant had had a point, however. These strangers presented an opportunity, one she hadn't known to hope for and one she intended to take.

* * *

"Well that was rude."

The voice shot down Neal's spine like something out of both his most cherished dreams and worst nightmares. How many times had he woken up drenched in a cold sweat, remembering the rush of the portal, a broken deal, and the feel of his papa's hand letting go. And how many years had he spent in Neverland wishing, praying, that he would hear it again? That his papa would come and rescue him from Pan and it could be like it used to be, how it should have always been?

Neal kept his head down, letting his hair obscure his face as he pretended to be paying attention to Henry as he watched his Papa from the corner of his eye.

His mind was racing, the same thoughts echoing so fast the blended together with a vengeance. _Don't look over. Don't look over. How is he here? Don't look over._

The old lady at the counter handed him a roll of bills and his papa left, an odd swagger added to his all too familiar limp.

Once Neal was sure he was away he joined Emma at the counter.

"Hey, can we get this to go?" he said to the waitress before turning to Emma. "I don't think he's feeling too well."

Emma could see through his lie, but she said nothing.

"Sure thing," she said, popping her bubble gum.

It took them less than five minutes to get their food, walk to the inn around the corner, and back to their room. It was only then that Neal felt safe enough to fall apart.

"What's going on?" Emma demanded, watching him pace back and forth holding on to Henry like the kid was the only thing real in this world.

"I just saw my dad."

"Wait, what? Your dad as in the man who left you stranded in the woods so that you would stop pushing him to go to rehab?"

He nodded.

"You're talking about limpy?"

"Yeah but it's more than that…"

He ran his hand through his hair and pursed his lips, trying desperately to find a way to explain the rest in a way she would understand – in a way she would believe.

"He's not a good man Emma. He's killed people – a lot and some of them were in front of me. In my dreams, when I'm not watching him walk away, that's what I see. He tells me to go play outside but everyone is too scared to talk to me because of him so I just sit on the stoop waiting for him to get done talking to a neighbor. When he comes out he has blood on his boots and he and he acts like killing her was the most natural thing in the world. I don't want to be anywhere near him but more than that, I don't want him within a hundred miles of Henry!"

"Alright, let's get out of here," starting to pack. Neal balanced Henry on his hip with one hand and reached out the other to stop her.

"No, Emma, I can't ask that of you. If your parents are here…"

"Come on Neal, this can't be a coincidence. What are the chances we just happen to come across your father?"

"But what if they are here? I can't let you miss you chance with them especially if it turns out they wanted you."

Emma sat down on the edge of the bed, a onesie half folded in her hands.

"And what do we do if they are here? With him? "

Neal sat down beside her, Henry still on his hip, and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"Then we'll work it out."

Emma took a deep breath, wondering if he was talking about him and her or him and his dad or some combination of both. She didn't ask.

"How about this," she said standing up, "You stay here and watch Henry and I'll go ask around for the rest of the day. If I don't find any leads, we leave. And if I do…well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Neal looked down, uncomfortable with the idea of her alone in the same town with his Papa, but this did seem the best compromise.

"Alright. But be careful."

* * *

There weren't a lot of people on the streets this time of day, she guessed because it was one of those picture perfect small towns where everyone had the same work and school schedule. How weird. She had always lived in the city where there were plenty of people on the streets, some minding their own business or not.

She didn't know where to start. Logically she knew that to find missing people she should probably go check out the police and see what information they could give her but she really didn't want to do that. It probably had something to do with the fake ID and passport she had tucked away in her pocket, or maybe there was more to it than that.

The first place she saw was a little pawnshop off Main Street. The sign read open and she figured it was as good a place to start as any. It was cluttered but not messy but there was something about the air in the place that set her on edge, like she was walking too close to an electric fence without touching it.

"It's a beautiful piece. Excellent craftsmanship."

Emma jumped, her hand falling from the tiny crystal unicorn mobile.

"I don't seem to recognize you, and we don't get many visitors to Storybook. I'm Mr. Gold," he said reaching out his hand.

"Emma," she said, not taking his hand.

She hadn't wanted to be here, facing down the devil himself, and yet she couldn't help but be glad. This was the man that had hurt Neal so much, that had caused his fear and nightmares, and she despised him for it.

"What a lovely name. Were you looking for anything in particular?"

"Just looking."

"Well let me know if you need anything dearie."

Emma's fingernails dug into her palms until she was sure she felt blood and her jaw was so tight her teeth threatened to break. She did need something. She needed to hit and scream and rip him apart, all the while screaming '_how could you hurt him like that? How could you just leave him?'_

She said nothing because that would only hurt Neal more. But that didn't stop pure hatred from swelling under her skin until it boiled over. In an instant every piece of glass in the little shop shattered to dust, wood splintered and nothing was left standing inside but the trinkets buried beneath the ash.

Her eyes widened and somehow she knew it was her, her hatred, her anger. But how? It was impossible, wasn't it?

She didn't stop to ask, she just backed out of the shop and ran.

* * *

"Hello," Regina said, enjoying the way the girl jumped at the sound of her voice. "I'm Regina Mills, the Mayor."

The girl blinked, distracted, she looked like she had been running but Regina didn't know what from. Not that she cared. All that mattered was that after a short conversation she would no longer stand between Regina and what she wanted.

"Emma, Emma Swan."

Regina put on her kindest smile. "I just wanted to stop by and welcome you to town," she said, pressing a book into the girl's hands.

She blinked, staring at the history book in her hand and reach out to steady herself against the wall. Regina watched as a confused look crossed her face like a haze had swept over her and just as quickly disappeared.

"Mayor Mills?"

"School has already started Miss Swan and I won't tolerate delinquency in my town," Regina said sternly.

"I just overslept and was on my way there." The girl was good. Regina almost believed her.

"Then you best get going."

One down and one to go. She watched the swan girl walk away and only then did she turn around, walking briskly towards the inn.

It had been nothing to threaten the promiscuous little wolf into giving her the room number for the young couple.

A vaguely familiar looking young man answered the door.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybook."

"Neal Cassidy," he said cautiously, reaching his hand out for her to shake.

"I'm just here to welcome you to the neighborhood. We don't get a lot of visitors," she said, pressing a rolled up newspaper into his hand.

Like his little friend, the haze came and went and Regina had her prize.

"Miss Mills?"

"Mr. Cassidy, Granny Lucas should be in the diner but I still don't think she has any work for you."

He gave a little shrug. "It doesn't hurt to try."

Just then the child let out a wail and the boy turned to look at it.

He blinked once and for the briefest instant Regina feared that the magic hadn't taken hold.

"Cute kid."

Regina smiled and picked him up, the soft fabric of his cap tickling the skin of her neck.

"He is, isn't he? The adoption was just finalized."

* * *

Len stood in his bathroom, looking into his medicine cabinet. He pressed a switch hidden on the top and the back slid out, revealing a second set of shelves. Vials of all shapes and sizes sat, a single space empty.

He sighed, pulling a pill box sized one out of his pocket and held it up to the light. The silver liquid was half gone and he hadn't the supplies to make more. But he was a crafty man; all that it meant was that he was just going to have to be a bit more careful and a bit more creative.

Only ten years to go after all.

* * *

A quick note before I let you guys go. Some people have been asking me about Stardust, and I hate to say it, but that story is officially abandoned. I had no idea where I was going to go before I started it, so by the time I had an ending worked out, I realized that the beginning was a bit of a mess. However, that ending is largely being reused for this story.


	2. What the Hell

The day Gold got his memories back it had become easier to notice the changes the savior and her power had brought to the town. For the most part they were the small subtle things Regina would never have noticed. The cricket had cut across the alleyway on his otherwise routine dog walk, a few nameless patrons had switched up their breakfast orders at Granny's, and most telling of all, the hands on the clock tower had moved a few seconds.

He had been concerned that with her sudden incorporation into curse, all hope of her saving anything would have been lost. After that curious show of power in his shop, and not to mention the look of seething hatred on her face as she did it, he had intended to investigate further. Regina, however, had quickly gotten in the way of that, fitting her with false memories and a life as a lonely foster child in Storybrooke.

The one consolation he had gotten out of the entire situation was the fact that Regina didn't know Miss Swan's role in their little fairy tale. If she had, Regina would have used what little magic she brought into this world to make sure she was in no position to save anyone, and if the magic wasn't enough Rumpelstiltskin wasn't foolish enough to assume she didn't have other measures at her disposal.

He also wasn't foolish enough to assume the timing of her adoption was a coincidence. Miss Swan was a bit young to be a mother but there was no doubt the boy was hers.

It was an interesting development – one even he never could have foretold – and one that was likely to be Regina's downfall. She underestimates the bond between parent and child and just because the memories are no longer there does not mean the bond has lessened any.

"Look man, I don't understand. Are you saying I stole the shit or are you saying those kids did?"

Gold froze. His right hand griped his cane so tight his knuckles felt as if they were going to pop out of his skin and yet he still had to put his left hand against the wall to steady himself.

Bae. Oh God, Bae.

He would recognize that voice anywhere despite it being an octave lower than the last time he heard it. He turned the corner, trying to get a look at his son.

Bae's face had lost some of its roundness and he had grown several inches but he looked much the same as he had that day in the forest, as if only a handful of years had passed for him in the centuries Rumple had been looking.

So many questions raced through his mind. The only way he could have gotten into Storybrooke was if he had been in the Enchanted Forest when it was cast. Had that damn fairy lied about the bean or had Bae somehow found a way back to him?

"I'm saying you were helping them," the sheriff said, making Rumple want to beat him with his cane. Bae was not a thief.

"Then why aren't you going after them?" He said, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Because they got away."

"That's not my problem, so unless you have proof, I have somewhere else to be."

"You knocked over the magazines to cause a distraction…" Clark, the dumpy little dwarf said.

Bae just shrugged in confusion. "My shoelace came undone. Since when is that a crime?"

"You hid things in the camera's blind spot so that they could take them!" Clark continued, indignant.

"I had too much in my basket and was too lazy to put it back in the right spot, besides you just admitted you don't have any proof."

He turned to the sheriff. "Can I go?"

The huntsman sighted and waved him off, much to the dwarf's chagrin.

Gold followed his boy at a respectable distance. As much as every instinct wanted him to run forward and embrace him, to hold Bae in his arms like he did when he was a boy, the undeniable truth was that Baelfire would not remember him.

There was nothing even the dark one could do now. The curse could not be broken until Emma's twenty-eight birthday – a date a decade away – and there was no magic. That little trick could only be done after the curse was broken.

To wake Baelfire, he had only one choice: ask Regina. As long as the 'please' condition was still in play, she would have to do it. Yet Rumple hadn't survived this long and accomplished so much by rushing into things, by not knowing the cost. To get Regina to do it would be to tip his hand too much. He did not want Regina questioning how he had been woken, but more than that, he didn't want to her to try and use his son as a bargaining chip until he had the magic to protect him.

Gold followed him again, unable to take his eyes away from the young man his son had become. Bae walked a few blocks to a little parking lot half hidden behind the hardware store where two kids, not much younger than himself, waited by a yellow car.

"Gees Neal, I really thought they got you," the girl said.

"Na, they didn't have anything on me, but you're going to want to use cash for a while just in case."

"That's kind of the problem, we don't have any."

Bae gave them the shy, mischievous little smile Rumple had missed so much.

"Are you sure about that?" He held up two fingers, a cluster of bills clutched between them. "This should hold you for a while, just don't spend it all at once."

"How did you get that?" The boy asked him, clearly impressed.

"You'd think the sheriff would know better than to carry cash now a days. He was just asking to get took."

They laughed.

"Alright, go stash that somewhere safe and get your homework done," he said, ruffling the boy's hair and sending them on their way.

Bae opened the driver side door and turned to look at Rumple. It was an odd look, as if he was both confused, intrigued, and had the slightest hint of recognition.

It was more than Gold could ever have hoped for.

* * *

There was nothing quite like the frantic sound of someone knocking on his window as two in the morning. Not that he was getting that much sleep anyways. Sleeping meant dreaming and that was rarely fun. His nightmares were always the same, a flash of green, wind pulling at every inch of him, and the feeling of someone letting go when they should have been holding on. Sometimes they were of him stuck in a forest, running, hiding, surviving.

The worst, however, were the ones he remembered least. A home somewhere (his mind kept wanting to say _Tallahassee _but he knew that wasn't quite right,) warmth, laughter, the weight of something precious in his arms…and the overwhelming feeling of loss that tore him apart from the inside. Those dreams stayed with him for days, leaving a dull burning ach that he just couldn't name.

Today just happened to be one of the worst.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I snuck out when Miss Blanchard went to bed. They're going to separate us! We need your help."

He wiped the sleep from his face and put the back of the seat up.

"Ava calm down and breathe. What is going on?"

"Mr. Clark got the sheriff to follow us and now they know we were living on our own. We're staying with Miss Blanchard until they figure out what to do with us but I heard them talking about sending us away to different homes. What are we going to do?"

She looked so scared, not the Neal could blame her. Families should stick together and losing yours, well it was a lot for any kid.

"I don't know," he said, "but we'll find something."

And that was how he found himself spending all of the next day pounding the preverbal pavement. It was a long shot, but the best idea they could come up with was to find the twins dad, despite the fact that he had never been in their lives.

Neal was nervous for them, if their pop had known about them and had already walked away from them once, that was only opening up the kids for heartbreak. But that wouldn't be nearly as bad as them being separated.

Eventually though, it all came down to a last ditch effort Neal hadn't the heart to tell them probably wouldn't work. They had an old broken campus that was special to their mom and maybe, just maybe she had been enough of the sentimental type that she kept something of her ex's.

Neal had never met Mr. Gold personally, but he knew his reputation as one of those people that scared everyone shitless. For some reason that didn't really bother Neal that much.

What did set him a bit off balance was the absolute distraction that had pretty much destroyed his shop. Every display had been smashed and splintered leaving objects spread everywhere. The only thing that seemed to be in its proper place were a bunch of crystal unicorns strung together into what Neal thought was a child's mobile.

Under the destruction there was something in the air, like the faintest hint of static electricity just under the surface, dancing across his skin and kissing the top of his head. A little laugh echoed in his ears but he shook it off.

"Store's closed," someone shouted from the back but Neal wasn't quite ready to leave just yet.

"I'm not here to buy anything."

Probably not the best thing to say to a pawnshop broker but the words kind of came out before he meant them to.

Gold came out to greet him and stopped in the doorway, a look of shock and joy and about a million other emotions flashing across his face at once.

"Bae?"

"What?"

Just like that the look was gone and what replaced it, Neal knew, was a carefully constructed mask. Whatever was going on in the old man's head, he didn't want people knowing it.

"What business do you have here if not to buy anything?"

The emotions so carefully hidden by his mask were leaking into his voice, making Neal uncomfortable.

"I was wondering if you had any information on this," he said, showing Gold the compass, "There's a couple kids in trouble and I think it may belong to their father. Maybe he can help them."

"I heard about that. Nasty business but perhaps it's better this way. Kids shouldn't be living on the street alone, stealing just to eat."

"They're not alone, they have each other and to be honest, living on the street is nothing compared to living alone. Families shouldn't be torn apart."

Gold looked like he had been slapped. He held out his hand inviting Neal to hand it over.

"I remember this piece. Excellent craftsmanship."

"What's your price?"

"What?" Gold asked, still obviously out of sorts.

"I know your reputation. Everything comes with a price with you, even information."

Gold looked at him, measuring. It was a look that Neal had seen many others squirm under, and yet Neal had no problems standing his ground.

"Something recently came into my shop that I didn't fully understand and left my shop a bit of a mess."

"I hadn't noticed."

Gold cracked a smile.

"Yes well, it's just me here and bending down is somewhat difficult," he said, motioning to his cane. "If I give you the name of the man who bought it, then when you've concluded your business with him, you come and help me straighten up a bit?"

"And you're just going to give me the information first?" Neal had spent too long surviving on his own not to be suspicious of something like that.

"I trust you."

There was something going on here that Neal couldn't quite put his finger on. His mind told him he should be scared of this old man. His heart said he should be pissed at him (for what?). But his instincts, well they told him that, as crazy as it sounded, he could trust Gold.

Those instincts had saved his ass more than the other two.

"What the hell. It's not like I have anything better to do."

* * *

If Neal was being objective, he would say that there was something a little pathetic about a man who didn't want his kids, but wasn't being objective and so that just made Michael Tillman despicable.

"Well, I'm sorry, but Dory – she wasn't my, um… It was just once."

"Sex Ed 101, man. That's all it takes."

"I can barely manage this garage. I can't manage two kids."

Neal could have understood if it was the shock talking – after all it's not every day you find out you have a twelve year old you never knew about, let alone two – but Neal could hear the truth. It wasn't shock. It was fear. That man was doing everything he could to justify chickening out of his responsibilities.

"Then you should have wrapped it."

"What makes you think they're mine?"

"Timing, for one. And there's this," Neal dropped the compass into his hand.

"I lost this…"

"Why don't you do the math and find out when."

Michael stared at it for a long moment before handing it back.

"I'm really sorry. I am. I don't know anything about being a dad. If it's a good home you're looking for, it's not with me."

Neal stepped forward until he was almost in the coward's face.

"Good home? Bullshit. Those kids are going to spend the rest of their lives wondering why you just let them go and didn't give a shit what happens next, because it's never pretty.

Ava and Nick, they're going to be put into the foster system and it's pretty much a sure thing they are going to be separated. What little bit of family they have left will be ripe apart because, and let me let me tell you a bit about the foster system; it's not a good home, not for anyone. I was only hit once before I took off on my own but few are so lucky.

"The good homes – the ones so rare they're practically a legend— almost always send you back when you get to be too much trouble. Maybe you accidently break something, maybe they have their own kid, or maybe when you find someone finally willing to adopt you, they go nuts and try and shove you in front of oncoming traffic.

"And that's just the good ones. The bad families, the ones that can't keep their hands to themselves, well sometimes they wait until you're asleep and—"

"Enough!" Tillman screamed and Neal could tell he was getting to him. Good the coward needed to know just what the hell he was doing.

"No man, it's not. The truth is that the moment you become a father, or find out you're one, it's no longer about you. Those kids are the only thing that matters and you better do right by them."

It was in that moment that Neal noticed that as mad as Tillman was, he was just as disgusted with himself.

"I can't help you."

Neal gave a bitter snort. "It's not me you're fucking over."

* * *

A half dozen trash bags were tied up by the door, full of wood and glass, waiting to be taken out. Neal had been surprised to find that he hadn't been expected to do the work alone. Gold had actually stayed with him, doing almost any bit of cleaning that didn't require stooping down or putting down his cane.

"I hear Mr. Tillman has retrieved his children from Miss Blanchard's custody," Gold said, leaning against what was left of the counter.

"Good."

"And you've done quite well here."

They had talked for hours as they worked and Neal couldn't remember the last time he had had such easy conversation. Neither of the really watched television and it soon became obvious that Gold was much more of a homebody then Neal, but underneath it all there was something there, some connection he just couldn't place.

"Yeah, it's kind of nice."

"How would you like a job?"

"Seriously?" Neal asked. Even without the distraction this place couldn't get all that many customers, so what was the old man playing at?

"I figured you could use some honest work rather than picking the sheriff's pocket," Gold said, an impish little grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You saw that?" Neal said, his pride a little bruised.

"I saw you give those kids the money."

"It will be our little secret." If Neal didn't know better, he could have sworn the old man was a little proud of him.

"Of course."

"So do you want the job or not?"

"What the hell."

* * *

The night after his third day at work, it rained. He liked the rain, it was comforting and sometimes – just sometimes – it was enough to keep the nightmares away. What he didn't like was that someone had smashed in his window sometime before he got off work. A trash bag would seal it up pretty well for tonight, but the inside was already soaked.

"Shit."

"What's wrong," Gold said from behind him. "Ah."

"It's fine." Neal said, "I can put a towel down until I get home."

"No you won't."

Neal turned. "What?"

"You think I didn't know that you've been sleeping in your car?"

Neal shouldn't have been surprised, it was harder to get anything past the old man than it was just about anyone else Neal knew.

"Come on. I have a guest room and we can get that horrible yellow thing of yours into the garage first thing tomorrow."

"What's this really about?" Neal asked, sitting at the table a glass of orange juice and a couple eggs-in-a-baskets sitting in front of him. He had to admit it was nice not to have stolen pop tarts for breakfast, but there was more going on here and he wanted to know what.

"The car's been fixed for a week and you still insist that I stay here."

"A well-rested person can work better. I consider it an investment."

Neal snorted. How the hell had Gold been able to tell such a straight faced lie? The man had skills.

"I could almost buy that if you hadn't let me sleep in until noon all week."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"You think I'm stupid? When I first came into the shop you looked like you had seen a ghost, then you gave me a job. Then my car window gets 'mysteriously' broken and you just happen to offer me your guest room. And now you want me to stay. Give me one reason this isn't creepy."

Gold paused and looked down, pensive, his own glass of juice in his hand.

It took him a moment to answer, but when he did his voice was soft and vonarble in a way Neal hadn't thought it could be.

"You remind me so much of my son. He would be about your age now."

"What happened to him?"

"A car accident."

"You were driving, weren't you?" Neal asked. It would explain the shear heart wrenching loss in the man's voice and for some reason Neal understood.

"Yes. He wanted to go so badly and I had promised even though it truly felt like a bad idea. I can still hear the wind from the storm. I could have saved him but I had hesitated. The whole thing reminded me so much of when I lost my father that I froze and then he was gone."

"What was his name?" Neal whispered, getting up. It was an odd thing but it felt right. Neal wrapped his arms around Gold and gave him a big hug.

"Bae."

"I'm not him."

"I know." Gold whispered, returning the hug and Neal could feel tears hitting his neck. "But you're welcomed to stay."

Neal licked his lips, unsure and then sighed.

"What the hell."

* * *

It's weird, but I kind of fan cast Dylan and Abby rather than MRJ and JMO. I guess a lot of that has to do with how no one bought them acting as teenagers. For future reference, Neal's age is 21 in this story. The wanted poster said he was born in 77, which would make him 23 in 2000 when Emma went to Jail. Truthfully, I think he would have lied about his age. I mean he was what fifteen or sixteen when he escaped Neverland and I think he would have padded his age a bit to stay out of the system.


End file.
